The return of the pens

Not a new horror flick. Not a premiere Pixar animation tale. No, it’s the return of THE pens, as in the pens that have been gradually disappearing from my desk for the past several weeks and irritating the daylights out of me.

The mass exodus has left me – grudgingly – using ball point pens instead of my favored gel pens. Please put it on record that I hate writing with ball point pens. It’s the worst punishment I can think of, akin to carving a message into a granite rock with a dried weeping willow twig and both hands tied behind my back.

Nine of my handsome little artistes came marching back to me tonight, nestled in the strong and slightly embarrassed hand of my oldest son.

“Uh, here are your pens back, Mom,” he said with that irresistible grin of his. “I guess I had them with my stuff. Sorry. I’ll put them on your desk, okay?”

“That would be great. Thanks, Matt. I’m glad to have them back,” I gratefully replied. How could I not accept such a humble apology?

Sometimes my prayer life is like that. Sometimes the “pizazz” gradually disappears. When it does that, I’m forced to pray with empty prayers that are akin to carving a message to God on a granite rock with a dried weeping willow twig and both hands tied behind my back. It’s a struggle to say the least. Then one day when I least expect it, the pizazz returns, my prayers begin to flow freely and I feel as though God and I are communicating once again.

“Here is your pizzaz,” God says in my imaginary dialog. “I had it in my stuff. Sorry. I’ll put it back in your heart, okay?”

It seems that once in a while we need to be pizazz free so that when it returns, we can truly experience pizazz glee.

I hope you find your gel pens today, my friends!

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